


Choices

by Mistressaq



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alaska-centric, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Diabetes, F/F, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 11:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13316739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistressaq/pseuds/Mistressaq
Summary: Alaska has Type 1 Diabetes and wants to make her own choices for the night. When disaster strikes, salvation comes with a familiar face.





	Choices

**Author's Note:**

> So once for a school project I researched Type 1 diabetes. People have been asking for a Shalaska where we have a protective/caretaking Sharon so here we go with a oneshot. Honestly I think is the thing I'm most proud of having written.

She checked her numbers before she left. It was fine. It was going to be fine. 

Drinking was a stupid thing to worry about anyway-- it wasn’t a death sentence. Just like eating a cupcake wasn’t a death sentence. Just like the disease itself. 

Alaska got off the bus downtown. She knew her way to fourth avenue -- Knew her way past the dozens of tattoo parlors and medical marijuana joints to one of the gay-friendly bars and clubs that dotted the avenue. Last time she’d been here it had been with -- 

Alaska stopped that train of thought and swallowed. She hadn’t been alone before. 

A sign caught her eye. The Surly Wench. She chuckled to herself. She remembered jokingly pointing at the sign last June. “It’s you,” she had said. She’d had her ribs tickled and her cheek kissed for her remark.

Alaska squeezed her eyes shut and looked up at the sky, breathing slowly. Tucson wasn’t a massive city, and on nights where the desert sky cooperated (which was often) you could still see most of the stars. There they’d be, diamonds flickering through the atmosphere, relaxed against the indigo of early night sky. 

It was cloudy tonight. She couldn’t see any of the stars. 

As she kept walking, Alaska hoped the memories would relax. Stop reminding her of how different things were now. Of how she got up alone at 2 am to check her sugar levels. Of how she used to be able to look away from the needle poking into her skin. Of how she didn’t used to have to do it alone every day. 

It occurred to her now that she had never done it alone before. Before-- before them, she’d lived with her parents. Her mom had been her gentle alarm clock. Time to check your numbers sweetie. She still had the words written below the alarm she set every night. 

It wasn’t the same.

Alaska pulled her cardigan across her chest against a chilly evening breeze. The whole street seemed colder than it had before, and not because of… she shook her head. Last time it had been pride month, and it seemed like the whole of downtown Tucson was bedecked in rainbows-- even some of the local churches were opening their doors to the queer community instead of shutting them out. She didn’t know a single queer person who’d taken advantage of that but it was still a nice show of appreciation.

But now it was October, and the rainbows had been replaced by jack-o-lanterns and ghosts. The decor may have been prompting flashbacks more so than the street itself. An Eastern ware shop had a cheesy ghost decoration standing out front. It had a censor and when Alaska walked past it shouted “Boo!” 

Instead of getting jumpscared, Alaska ran to the Dairy Queen, willing herself not to cry. Looking in the window at the menu, Alaska dug into her purse for her wallet. _Fuck it, I’m GETTING ice cream and it’ll be FUCKING FINE!_

She revelled in the indulgence of something so small. It wasn’t bad at all to have a little sweet now and then. After all, it wasn’t high blood sugar levels that were the most worrying. The soreness and weakness that came with the high were nothing compared to the nausea, dizziness, shaking, sweating and possible coma that resulted from the low. _I’ll just watch for the sugar crash_ , she decided once thoroughly placated with chocolate.

But when Alaska thumbed through her bag for her glucose meter, something was off. She pulled out her wallet, deodorant and planner from the bag and set them on the table. Looking straight into her purse as she flipped through items, Alaska kept rejecting the reality of her situation. After dumping almost all the contents of her bag onto the table for everyone inside the DQ or walking past to see, she sat down hard. 

It wasn’t there.

She’d left her entire kit in the mini fridge at home.

Alaska covered her face with her hands. _You fucking idiot. She was right. The bitch was fucking right when she told you you couldn’t function without her. This never would have happened if--_

Her self hate session was cut off by the raucous laughter of a group of girls barging into the shop. Alaska looked up and recognized the girls; they went to college with her. They were more drunk than would be expected this early in the night, thought Alaska, but then, it was a Friday. She watched one fashionably bald girl lean on her friend, her nails painted, skin red and blotchy, skirt riding up on her thighs. Her friend had her thick, curly black hair in a messy updo to get it off her sweaty neck. A third, smaller girl was dressed in more mesh than should be legal. She was barefoot and had heels stuffed into a clutch that was in no way going to contain the discarded footwear as she sleepily leaned on a loud big girl with bright red hair. 

The big red-headed girl appeared to be the leader -- or at least the most sober -- and she ordered for her friends, patting the sleepy girl on the head when she nuzzled against her arm. The crew went to the corner table to wait for their orders, and Alaska just watched them. They were fascinating, how they stuck by each other and talked constantly. There was never a moment of silence among these friends, and for once, Alaska wished for that.

She’d always been more of an introvert, preferring her own company to that of others, but it was in times like these where she was eating ice cream alone instead of dancing in a club when she really wished she had more friends. 

_Wait a minute_ , Alaska looked up.

The girls were sighing about how happy they were to finally be off their feet when the cashier called their order. A little groan rippled through them. _Here’s your chance!_

Alaska hopped up from her seat and gathered the many ice creams in her hands and cheerily looked at the redhead. The little sleepy one next to her lit up when she saw her strawberry swirl approaching.

“Well thanks, girl!” said the redhead with a flicker of southern twang. Her gratitude was echoed by her friends as they dug into their sweets. “You didn’t have to do that but I’m glad you did pull up a chair,” She said all in one breath.

Alaska grabbed her purse and her chair, flinging the seat in an awkward position toward the inside of the circle. Curly Hair scooched back at an angle to let Alaska in. She could barely believe what was happening. What had gotten into her?

The redhead moaned into her Oreo Blizzard. “Why don’t you have some, girlie?” 

It took Alaska a few seconds to register that the dominant friend was still paying attention to her. In fact, they all were. Well, Alaska and their desserts. “Oh,” she breathed. “I already finished mine.”

“Mhm,” said the redhead.

Alaska could feel the conversation slipping away. If she wanted to stick around, she’d have to say something. “So, have you all been out on the town yet?” _Fuck, you sound awkward. Also duh_.

Red’s mouth was full, so Curly answered. “Oh yeah, we hit up the Sky Bar up the block a ways,” she said. Her voice was low and had a grit to it that made her sound more interesting.

Alaska brightened. “Oh I’ve been there! I went to a lecture there once.”

The little one giggled knowingly. “We didn’t go for a lecture.”

Curly said “The drinks are pricey, but they’re all like space themed which is actually really cool.”

“If you’re a NERD!” commented Red. Her little friend giggled again. Her tiny bird face was bright pink and Alaska loved it. 

The friends talked a little bit that must have been full of inside jokes because Alaska didn’t get it at all. She just contented herself to watch and enjoy the company of these pleasant strangers. Eventually, when conversation died down enough for her to cut in she asked “So where to after this? Home or--”

“Fuck no we’re not going home!” said Red, her voice reverberating off the plastic windows. “Listen to Miss Thing,” she said to her friends, who laughed. 

It made Alaska remember the reasons she didn’t have many friends. Because they did this. They made fun of you. She should never have come over here.

Then Red said “Naw, it’s burlesque night at the Surly! We’re headed to the pub. You’re welcome to join us.”

Alaska’s head snapped up. “What?”

Red arched her eyebrows. “O’course, girl, you’re cool. And you’re dressed for goin’ out anyway -- you don’t belong in an ice cream shop all night. Come with us.” Again, her sentiment was echoed by her friends. 

“I’d love to actually, thank you.” Alaska felt like she’d gone from depressed to elated with a few sentences. Was it really this easy to make friends? Why the hell had she been so reclusive? But there was something she needed to establish first. She held out her hand for a shake. “I’m Alaska.”

Red took her hand and gave a sturdy shake. “Eureka, like the vacuum cleaner. And this is Farrah, like Faucett; Sasha, the Russian gender-neutral form of ‘Alex’; and Shea, like the butter.”

Alaska took note of each name and tried to commit each to memory, repeating them three times aloud and many more times in her own head on their way to The Surly Wench. She was so full of joy at making new friends so easily that Alaska couldn’t help the urge to skip down the street as she followed Eureka and Farrah down the sidewalk. Shea and Sasha giggled behind her and quickly linked arms to skip along with Alaska. Farrah cast a glance behind her to see what all the laughing was about and poked Eureka to join in. 

“Bitch, I’m too fat to be skippin’ and hoppin’ all down this street -- I’ll cause an earthquake if I try all that tomfoolery,” she joked. 

Farrah laughed and playfully nudged her friend before waiting to fall back in formation, link arms with Alaska and join the skipping parade.

Slightly out of breath, the five girls arrived at their destination. They found the pub pretty busy and had to wait for a group table. While they waited, Alaska grabbed a laminated menu from the front desk and started skimming for numbers. “Do you have a nutritionfacts menu?” she asked a hostess whose bangs were plastered to her forehead with sweat. 

“Can’t you just order off the Skinnylicious section?” said the hostess, exasperated.

Alaska pursed her lips and bowed her head, wishing she could blend into the exposed masonry of the wall. 

Eureka had overheard. “Girl, what’s your skinny ass doin’ countin’ calories for? You bulimic or somethin’?”

“No, I’m-- I’m not.” Alaska sucked in her cheeks and folded her arms across her chest.

“Eureka, don’t joke about that,” Sasha chastised. 

The hostess left to seat a couple at a table and Sasha brazenly jumped behind the counter to look through the different stacks of menus. She plucked one from a small stack that clearly didn’t get used often, hopped back to the group and presented Alaska with the specialized menu complete with nutritional facts.

Alaska looked appreciatively at Sasha but couldn’t find any words. The girl waved her off and snapped back into a conversation with Shea as if she’d never left.

Before Alaska looked down at Sasha’s prize, the hostess was back and led them to a freshly-bussed corner booth seated directly opposite a small stage where, Alaska assumed, the burlesque show would be happening. 

She looked down at the menu in her hands and chewed her lip. The lighting was so bad she wouldn't be able to make out anything other than the pictures without her phone light, and she didn’t want Eureka to see her reading it to make fun of her again. Of course, it wasn’t the first or the last time that someone had assumed her asking for the nutritionfacts menu indicated her being overly health conscious -- or bulimic as Eureka so brazenly said. Alaska just really didn’t want to have that conversation right now. She didn’t want to have to sit down every person she met and spill her life story. She shouldn’t have to. At least with… Alaska hadn’t loved it when _she_ would put her diagnosis on blast for strangers, but deep down Alaska was just happy that when _she_ was still around she hadn’t had to give the spiel herself. 

But now that she was again reminded that, though surrounded by friendly people, she was alone, Alaska knew she’d have to start having The Conversation. 

“Okay, ladies, drink orders?” said Shea. She had out her Notes and was taking one beverage down from each of the girls at the table. 

Alaska felt like she was in a videogame making a critical decision. It wasn’t completely off limits for her to have alcohol, but she had never tried -- _she_ hadn’t allowed it. 

_“What’s the point in taking the risk?” she’d said on Alaska’s 21st. Alaska had nodded. You’re probably right. She’d been embraced from behind. She’d felt looked out for. Taken care of._

_Well I can take care of myself now, Sharon._

“Yo, earth to Alaska!” Eureka snapped her fingers in front of Alaska’s face.

Time to choose.

Alaska looked over at Farrah. Her size and build told her she wouldn’t be a heavy drinker. And she’d get something yummy. “I’ll have what she’s having,” she told Shea.

The girl nodded. “Make that two Amarula Sunsets, a house ale and a couple of vodka sodas. I’ll be back!”

“Biiiieeeee,” said Alaska. 

Farrah giggled. 

By the time the drinks came, Alaska had been getting snippy with her new friends, bottoming out from the ice cream earlier. She felt weak, brittle, as if she really was made of china, the way Sharon always treated her. Before tonight Alaska hadn’t known what an Amarula Sunset was, but she would have eaten or drank anything put in front of her by that point. So she downed a few good gulps of her drink, swallowing past the vodka taste and focusing on the cherries, just trying to stabilize. Fuck, she should have brought her kit. She hated feeling out of control.

Theoretically, if she just watched what she ate and exercised regularly and did all the things she was supposed to, she may be able to go out and forget her kit and not worry. If you’re smart about the formulas of carbs and sugars and such, you could kind of forego many of the injections. If you were responsible and kept track of your symptoms. A juice box works about as fast as a glucose injection. But she couldn’t very well lower her blood sugar on her own -- her fucked up pancreas had that settled a long time ago.

Once the first few sips had kicked in, Alaska’s mood brightened a little. She took another experimental sip and winced. Now that she could properly taste the Amarula Sunset, she realized it was like a slushie of cream and cherries and vodka. Probably there was more than just vodka in the unassuming baby pink cocktail, but that’s all she could identify. Fuck, her system was going to have a field day with this one. She had to eat something -- something substantive.

When they placed their orders instead of looking at her menu, again she doubled with another girl. This time she motioned toward Eureka and said “I’ll have what she’s having.” Call Alaska a fat-shaming cunt, but Eureka surely knew how to eat.

As she waited for her food, Alaska gingerly sipped on her cocktail. It put her on edge, how sweet the drink was. The Sunset was sure to jack her sugar levels to hell, but she’d need the carb load from the wings Eureka had ordered to keep her from bottoming out too soon. Her chest was already tight and her body felt sore -- she was definitely high. She couldn’t really bring herself down without insulin. The two things that lower blood sugar levels are insulin and -- Alaska’s eyes rested on the dance platform -- _exercise_.

“Who has some good dance mixes?” she asked the group, still eyeing up the black polished wood platform in the middle of the room. While Farrah, Shea and Sasha bantered over the best song to play, Alaska nudged Eureka. “Lemme out.”

Eureka arched an eyebrow at her but scootched out of the booth, Alaska following. As Eureka sat back down, Alaska stalked over to the platform. Her pale legs reflected the dim light of the pub, exaggerating their length and slimness. Her skirt rode up on her thighs but Alaska made no effort to fix it. The backs of her thighs were red where the pleather of the seat had clung to her skin. As her new friends silently eyed Alaska up in a way they hadn’t bothered to before, someone else’s eyes were drawn to her figure as well.

Alaska looked back to Shea at the booth. A newly budding part of her smiled at the sight of her new friends eyes on her. She didn’t feel sick, being looked at like this. She felt… sexy.

Alaska stood front and center on a stage the size of a matchbox. Stiltedly, she popped her hip up and glared at her friends expectantly. “Am I gonna be dancing to silence, or are you gonna play something?”

Shea hit play on a mix that involved Britney, a pulsing beat and a banging baseline. Alaska got moving, flinging her hips around and giggling when she made an obviously lame move. Farrah bounced up, dwarfed without her heels by Alaska’s natural height aided by her black pumps. They joined hands and swung around together, laughing at their tomfoolery as Shea continued to DJ for them. From on top of the platform, Farrah spun Alaska once, twice, three times. Alaska laughing the whole time.

It felt so good to be burning off all this energy. Alaska felt like every moment on her feet was lifting pounds of weight off her chest, her shoulders. Right now she was doing exactly what her body needed, and everything felt right. Watching the room spin around her, blurring into streaks of green and pink and blue, the people reduced to a hum of color and shape. Some color and shape flashed familiarly, but Alaska waved it off. It didn’t matter.

There was a noise like trying to speak underwater, then the world ground back into focus. Alaska was looking at Farrah, her powder pink hair covering half her face. Her face was turned away. It had gone from laughing to disappointed, and she wasn’t looking at Alaska. She tugged at Farrah’s arm. “Why’d you stop?”

Farrah turned to her and nodded to her left. Standing there was their waitress, the front of her hair wet, running down her forehead, her eyebrows catching the dampness of her forehead. She was working so hard, she deserved a nice tip. Her mouth moved, but the words coming out of her mouth didn’t take form in Alaska’s brain. Alaska tilted her head, reminding her that she was still spinning while standing still.

Farrah was tugging her back to the booth. “What?” asked Alaska.

Farrah pulled her hard back in the direction of the booth. Alaska’s upper arms twinged. “ _What_?” she whined. 

Farrah groaned. “You heard her.”

“I didn’t understand,” said Alaska. “Her voice was all _whoosh_.” Alaska let Farrah push her into the booth. 

She was too busy thinking to fight. _Why does my voice sound so weird? And why do I still feel like I’m in a wave pool? My sugar was high, it can’t be low. Yes it can. When I do weird things my body sometimes responds in weird ways. Remember when I pulled an all-nighter and my sugar wouldn’t stabilize for the rest of the day? Mom and Sharon worried so much._

Alaska took a deep shaky breath. _I should go home._

She didn't get the chance to bring anything about from that thought, as the whole table was immediately swept up into an intense conversation about toxic masculinity and how fucked up the white house situation is. Alaska’s dread about her numbers subsided in favor of conversation with excellent company. Whenever Alaska had enough time to be silent with her thoughts she went back to taking inventory of how she was feeling. Then Sasha would mention postmodernism and Alaska would gush about some artist she’d learned about in Art History and they would have an actual grown up conversation about art and history and politics. Being with these girls made Alaska feel like an adult for the first time in her life.

Still she made sure to only sip on her cocktail. Service was taking forever and the opening act had taken to the stage. The sound system wasn’t that great, but, as Shea pointed out, the dancers wouldn’t need microphones. The downside of the show starting was that Alaska was left with little distraction from the growing clamminess of her skin, the rumbling of her stomach, the pain in her forehead. They’d been at the bar an hour and a half and were not yet fed. Of course, in addition to her insulin, glucagon and meter, Alaska had forgotten her snacks at home, so she was in even worse of a position.

When they hit the two hour mark, Alaska got really bad. She couldn’t see straight and she actually felt nauseous. But she couldn’t say what was wrong because she was fucking pissy. Alaska was just mad, at the staff for taking so damn long, at herself for forgetting her shit, at her friends for not getting up and walking out when she suggested it. She was even mad at the DJ for playing such shit music. Her heart raced even as she sat and Alaska just could not relax no matter how many times Eureka told her to chill. 

It only got worse.

2 hours and twenty minutes after arriving at The Surly Wench, Alaska crawled over Eureka and stumbled out of the booth, the world tilting at an 80 degree angle. They were seated in the corner so when Alaska hurdled toward the exposed brick wall, she didn’t have far to go. She just kept thinking she had to get out of that booth but Alaska didn’t have the strength to get her anywhere, not even the bathroom. 

The music kept blasting and the skinny white girl in her underwear continued taking off her clothes to the beat of the mix. Alaska couldn’t see it, but someone stood at attention when she leaned heavily against the wall. They then thought better of it, and let her be… for now.

Alaska couldn’t breathe right. She felt so weak. She’d been distracted and the hypoglycemia had come out of nowhere. Then again, maybe it hadn’t. Somewhere behind her she heard Eureka ask if she was allright. Her jaw felt tight. Her stomach churned. She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped the earth would just stop spinning so goddamn fast and come back into focus.

She was kneeling on the floor now, a few eyes on her back. Stars danced in front of Alaska’s vision. She ground her teeth together.

Alaska, reduced to a shaking, panting mess on the floor of a pub, attracted more and more attention as onlookers noticed the girl wasn’t getting up. Her new friends crowded around her. Tears slipped down Farrah’s gentle cheeks as she worried what was wrong with her new friend. Eureka had a hand on Alaska’s back, only to be shrugged off with a growl. Sasha worried her fingernails as she looked down on the scene and Shea asked if they should call for help.

Minutes passed and the burlesque dancer pulled out all her tricks to recapture her audience’s attention. Her face shifted from elegant boredom to miffed, but it worked. For most of the audience. Not for Sharon Needles.

After the fifth minute of watching that pack of nobodies flounder in crisis, none of them taking appropriate action, Sharon downed the rest of her whiskey and thrust all her strength to get to her feet. The booze helped dull the pain of the blisters on her toes from her platform stiletto boots, as did the knowledge that getting off her ass in this case was likely going to save someone else’s. Not just anybody’s ass. Alaska’s.

Walking like she still had her bearings 5 whiskeys in, Sharon did her best to exude dominance. It worked, waiters and hostesses dodging and avoiding looking her in the eye at every turn. Sharon smirked. 

_“Can’t you see?” Alaska had asked once. They had been walking around the Fourth Avenue Street Fair together, Sharon’s arm slung around Alaska’s shoulders, glaring at every guy who so much as noticed Alaska. She had been wearing uber short-shorts Sharon bought her. She’d let Sharon shave her legs for her and even apply lotion after. It was so rare she let Sharon pamper her. Alaska was looking damn fine on Sharon’s arm, and Sharon wanted every man in that park to know._

_“Can’t I see what?” Sharon pulled Alaska a little closer and glared at a middle-aged man eyeing up her girl._

_Alaska struggled slightly against her grip. “What you do to people,” she said. “You intimidate them.”_

_“Good.”_

_“Good?” questioned Alaska._

_Sharon pulled them under the patchy shade of a Mesquite tree. “I’m glad I intimidate people,” she said. “I have to, don’t I? Have to keep them away from what’s mine.”_

Sharon winced. She’d rounded a corner and could now more easily see how pale and sweaty Alaska was under all that hair -- which she insisted on piling on top of her head -- and makeup -- which was blotted, sweated off and smeared -- all over her face. Alaska’s eyes dripped messy strings of mascara. Sharon’s lip quivered. She halted in her tracks, smacked with the memory of the last time she’d seen Alaska cry. 

_“Stop!” Alaska cried, twisting out of Sharon’s grip._

_Sharon had been shell-shocked. Her mouth popped open. “Baby, what’s the matter?”_

_Alaska was shaking her head, her dry craggy hair wafting in front of her face like palm fronds._

_“What is it?” Sharon asked again, reaching for her girlfriend’s arms._

_Again, Alaska pulled away. “It isn’t right, Sharon!”_

_Sharon didn’t know what she was talking about. Or why she was suddenly so angry. They’d been fine, just playing around. What could Sharon possibly have said to trigger this in her girlfriend? The last thing she’d said was…_

_You are mine, after all._

_Sharon’s heart rate sped. That couldn’t be it. She said that all the time. It’s just what you said when you loved someone. You’re mine and I’m yours._

_Alaska raked her nails through her hair. Sharon grabbed at her arms again -- she needed them. She needed to be holding on to Alaska. But Alaska wasn’t having it. “Babe--” Sharon tried._

_“No.” Alaska’s death glare shut her down fast. Her voice was rock hard, unyielding. Sharon immediately backed away, panic swelling in her ribcage. Alaska raised a finger to silence her. “No,” she repeated. “Now, you stop talking.”_

_Sharon pursed her lips and folded her arms protectively across her chest. She had no idea what had happened to her sweet sweet Alaska. Alaska took a shaky breath. “You. Do not. Own me.”_

_Sharon chuckled uncomfortably. “Of- of- of cour- of course I don’t,” she said, nerves making the words stick on their way out of her throat like phlegm._

_“See I don’t think you do,” said Alaska. Her lips pressed together, as if trying to keep the words in. Sharon gritted her teeth to keep herself silent. Anything she could say she knew she’d regret._

_Alaska brought up things Sharon hadn’t ever once questioned. How she was so possessive in public. She hated anyone so much as looking at Alaska but adored eyes on herself. How Alaska had to just be okay with that because ‘it’s just Sharon being Sharon’, even though she’d actually never been okay with it. Sharon shivered even though their apartment baked in the Tucson June heat._

_She tried to use it as an excuse. “It’s ju- it’s-it’s just the h- heat, y’know?” She couldn’t stop the habit of reaching for Alaska. She’d made it obvious she didn’t want to be touched right now. Sharon pushed it too far._

_Alaska lunged at her shoulders and shoved. Hard._

_Sharon felt pain flare up in her back , shoulders and the back of her head when she hit the plaster. All she could do was stand and breathe the pain away as Alaska looked on. Sharon didn’t see if her girlfriend was shocked at her own strength or sorry she’d taken it that far or something else. She couldn’t look up at her._

_There was silence for a while. Sharon stayed against the wall, partly to keep her upright and partially to hide the damage she knew her body had caused. Alaska wasn’t angry anymore -- if she was it was a silent angry, and Sharon didn’t know which was worse._

After that fight, Alaska had been completely emotionally distant. It never stopped hurting, the constant reminder of exactly what they’d lost. Sharon hadn’t expected -- or even wanted -- to see Alaska tonight, months after their explosive breakup. But Fate or God or whoever was in charge had brought them to the same place tonight, Sharon believed, to save Alaska’s life.

Alaska’s eyes fluttered closed. She looked so pitiful, hunched against the wall. Sharon swung her hips as she power-walked to cover more ground. “Make room!” she demanded of the useless friends. 

The big girl of the group sneered. “And who the fuck are you?”

Alaska mumbled something. Two sets of eyes turned to a petite pink monstrosity, who had been leaning down with Alaska -- the only one close enough to hear. 

“What’s she saying?” demanded Sharon.

The girls brows knitted together in confusion. “Cher?”

Sharon rolled her eyes, though inside her heart soared. “Sharon, that’s my name. She knows me. Let me through,” she said while already swiping her heel past the big girl to take the little one’s place.

Sharon went to work pulling off her black leather jacket. “How much has she had to drink?” she asked, filling her question with immediacy.

“Not even a whole cocktail and she had the same one I did she can’t be like this because of that I mean I know lightweights this isn’t that especially when she’s so tall--” The little one answered in a rush.

Sharon whipped the jacket over Alaska’s shoulders. She twitched at the contact, but relaxed because it was warm. Her hands, legs and jaw were all quivering. If she wasn’t supported by the wall, Sharon guessed Alaska would be in the ‘full body shaking’ phase of hypoglycemia.

Not touching Alaska was the hardest part of taking care of her when she was like this. Even now with her many years of experience caring for her, Sharon barely managed to suppress the urge to wrap her arms around the quivering girl and reassure her that everything was going to be allright. But Alaska didn’t like that. She hated being touched when her sugar was low. So Sharon had started giving Alaska warm things to wear when she hit this point. Heating blanket, shawl left sitting in the sun, jacket fresh off a warm body.

But now wasn’t time for reminiscing. Sharon snapped at the two girls still sitting in the corner booth. “Her purse. I need it.”

The girl with the dark skin and gorgeous hair snapped to action while her bald friend spoke up in a surprisingly low voice. “What’s wrong with her?”

Sharon scoffed and shook her head, holding out her hand. “Hypoglycemia,” she stated once a soft bag was placed in her open palm.   
“What’s that mean?” asked the big girl.

“Low blood sugar.” Sharon looked up to see four equally surprised faces. “Really?” she asked as she unzipped the leather bag. “She’s your friend and you didn’t know she was diabetic?”

“Diabetic? How can that Skinny Minnie be diabetic?” squawked the big girl. 

Sharon more aggressively tore through Alaska’s purse and scowled. God, why were people so fucking stupid? And what had gotten into Alaska that she had surrounded herself with people who were so ignorant about her condition? And where the HELL was her kit?

Thankfully, Baldie was informed, and as she rattled off the truth about Type 1 Diabetes to her friends, Sharon tapped Alaska’s shoulder. “Hey.”

Alaska, slumped against the wall, eyes closed, didn’t stir.

Sharon felt her heart turn a 180 and she roared into gear. She snapped right in front of Little One’s face, making the girl flinch. She didn’t have time for apologies. “You. Go to the bar. Say we’ve got a diabetic fainter who needs juice and a snack. If anybody’s got a glucose shot take that too.”

“What happens if she doesn’t get it?” Her little eyes were terrified. 

Sharon looked straight into her soul. “Coma.” 

The girl took off at a sprint.

“Is that true?” asked Baldie, concerned but skeptical.

Sharon went back to trying to gently shake Alaska awake. “It’s the worst case scenario, but we don’t got an abundance of time here.” Fuck, she was gonna have to hit Alaska in the middle of a crowded bar.

Gently, still half afraid Alaska was going to come round and lash out for touching her, Sharon cupped the sides of Alaska’s sweaty face in her hands. She was still breathing, but with no injections available, Sharon was gonna need her awake to swallow juice and crackers when they came. Sharon started with little flicks on Alaska’s ears, hoping that would be enough to bring her around. When it wasn’t, she escalated to light smacks on her jaw. While that interrupted her shallow breathing, Alaska’s powdered lids remained closed.

Sharon bit her nail and looked back at the three worried girls behind her. “Okay for the record, I didn’t want to do this.” And she smacked Alaska across the face. Hard.

Brown eyes snapped open as Alaska took in an intense gasp. Sharon jumped back, let her have her space to find her bearings. Alaska braced herself against the wall with one arm as the other searched the empty air next to her. All the while her wild eyes stayed trained on Sharon. 

Her chapped lips moved as if to speak, so Sharon slowly came closer to hear what she was trying to say. “You’re here,” she breathed into Sharon’s ear.

Sharon’s hands shook. She smiled up at pale-faced Alaska. “O’course I am,” she said softly. “Surly Wench is a cross between a dive bar and a punk nightclub. My bread and butter, babe.” It was supposed to be a joke. To ease the mood. But as soon as the old pet name escaped Sharon’s lips she regretted it. From Alaska’s face, she was down about it too. 

Sharon suddenly became aware of how close they were sitting, her own knees almost resting on top of her ex’s. She shuffled back to a little less than an arm’s length away. Returning to her role as protector, she leveled with Alaska. “So you lost consciousness,” she said. Alaska looked down. “It’s recommended you go to the hospital.”

The Little one returned, holding a kid’s lidded juice cup and a packet of crackers that usually came with soups and salads, not medical emergencies. She pressed them into Sharon’s hand before kneeling at Alaska’s side. 

“Thank you,” Sharon said. “What’s your name?” 

She looked up with big dough eyes. “Farrah.”

“Farrah.” Sharon nodded before turning her attention back to Alaska, who was dutifully downing juice through a Minions straw. It was the one time Sharon thought she was thankful for those mutated fucking corn kernels.

“So,” said Sharon, leaning against the wall again. “Do you feel like you want to go to the hospital?”

Alaska swallowed and shook her head. “I’d really rather not,” she said, her voice hoarse.

Sharon nodded. “Okay, what would you rather do?” She’d learned years ago that when Alaska got low, she felt out of control, and hated being ordered around. Ever since that realization, when Sharon talked to her in these moments she knew to let Alaska be in charge. “Do you wanna hang out here for a while?”

Alaska opened the crackers and pushed hair out of her face with a shaking hand. “Just ‘til I get my strength back.”

“Okay.” Sharon rested her back against the exposed brick wall, sharp edges prodding her through her sheer top. “And what about me?” she couldn’t help but ask nervously. “Am I okay, do you want me to leave--”

A cold hand latched around Sharon’s wrist. Alaska’s eyes exposed how scared she still was. “Stay.” 

Sharon relaxed. She kept watch as Alaska took breaks between juice and crackers to breathe. She shouldn’t need to go to the hospital this time if Sharon could get her home, could get her to her glucose meter so they could bring her back to stable levels and keep her there. But while she made these observations and plans Sharon also watched the room to see what kind of disturbance they had caused. 

Many heads had returned to the show on stage, though a few mothers glanced back at the girls on the floor in concern. Sharon smiled when she made eye contact with them and flipped a thumbs up, much to the relief of the strangers as it was to herself. 

The bartender came by to check up and ask if they needed an ambulance. Alaska shook her head and rested her head back on the wall. 

A few minutes later Sharon asked if Alaska planned to stay on the greasy floor all night. “I think I’m ready to start heading out,” Alaska said, her voice weak, but stronger than it had been. 

Farrah and Eureka had returned to their friends by that time, and when Alaska was in the process of leaning on Sharon as she tried to shakily stand like a newborn giraffe, her new friends lept up to try and help. It was too much movement and attention, which prompted Alaska to lash out, only for Sharon to smooth it over. “It’s been a long night, ladies,” she said apologetically. “It’s about time she went home.” She handed her phone to Farrah and asked her to call an Uber for them as she tucked a few locks of hair behind Alaska’s ear. 

Like her earlier slip, Sharon realized too late the intimacy of the gesture. This time, however, Alaska didn’t acknowledge if there was a misstep. She just stared blankly down at the table.

_

Alaska didn’t speak a word to her new friends or Sharon while they watched their driver approach on the app. When Sharon guided them both out to the street to meet the driver, Alaska didn’t even acknowledge her fellow student in his Wildcats sweater. She overheard Sharon give the same excuse she’d given to the girls. 

Long night.

Ain’t that the truth. 

She let her head fall into her hands in the back of the strangers Kia. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

A hand rested on her back. She was about to shrug it off before she remembered. It was Sharon. And she was safe. That realization sent waves of wetness down her hands and into her lap. 

“Shhh, I know that was scary but we’re -- _you’re_ on your way home and you have everything you need there. We’re gonna check your numbers and get some glucagon into you. I promise you’ll feel better.”

Sharon said all the right things, all the things she’d said before, but the words did little to placate Alaska now. “Wouldn’t need to go home to do those things if I’d remembered to bring my kit.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about that.” Sharon rubbed her shoulders. It didn’t help. 

“How can I not?” Alaska leaned back against the squeaky leather seat. The backs of her thighs were already sticking to it. 

“Listen. People make mistakes. You forgot your kit at home; that’s not the end of the world and it’s nothing you can change now.” Sharon did the deep-eye-stare where she tried to talk sense into you while looking directly into your soul. 

Alaska was far too tired for it to work. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, pulling off half her remaining eyeshadow. “I’m just so fucking tired, Shar.”

Sharon was about to say ‘I know’. Except she didn’t. 

Sharon let a moment of silence pass, walking her fingers halfway to Alaska, the drive to hold her hand still strong. She just wanted things to be okay again, maybe something like before. Sharon held her head. Of course they couldn’t go back. There was a reason they’d split. That didn’t mean she never wanted to see Alaska again, though the pain of seeing her was making her reconsider.

“I’ts been a long night,” sighed Alaska. She gave Sharon a tired side-eye. “And it’s nowhere near over.” 

It was true. She’d have to not only give herself glucagon, but check every fifteen to thirty minutes to make sure she was getting higher. Then she’d have to check once an hour to make sure she was leveling out and not going too high, plus the regular check after she’d been asleep five hours -- if she could even get to sleep at all. Fuck, she had a lot coming tonight. It wasn’t even midnight yet.

“You know,” said Sharon in a small voice. “I was actually planning… I was gonna stay and, you know, help out… with that.”

Alaska brushed hair out of her face.

Sharon recoiled, pulling her hand back. “You know, if… if that was okay.” There was more silence. “Unless, you don’t want me… if you’d rather I…”

“Stay.” 

Like she’d said before. Soft. Simple. Still, it was all Sharon wanted. 

_

Alaska was too weak to walk up the steps to her dorm. It was usually the only exercise she got, besides running around campus, and, though she knew Sharon would reprimand her for thinking it, she couldn’t help feeling that the only reason she couldn’t do such a fucking simple thing was because she’d been an idiot. She didn’t tell Sharon she felt this way.

The elevator was only for those with disabilities, but Sharon managed to get the lobby aide to let them borrow their elevator key (of course she used the words ‘diabetic’ and ‘weak’). Sharon pushing for accommodations was one of the few things that still bothered her. No matter how many times Sharon insisted Alaska was entitled to special accommodations, Alaska never felt right about it. She wasn’t sick enough to warrant that. What if a girl in a wheelchair came in and had forgotten her key? She’d just be miserable and it would be all Alaska’s fault because she couldn’t walk up some damn steps.

The lobby aide offered a “feel better!” Alaska didn’t respond, but Sharon thanked her for her kindness. How quickly they relaxed back into their roles.

Alaska didn’t have a roommate. Likely because of her condition, the university had offered her one of their single dorms, where rules were more lax and special accommodations were available. Her neighbors on both sides had obvious physical disabilities, and here she was, two legs, above average IQ and working muscles(again, she didn’t deserve this special treatment). She’d only moved into the dorms after the split last spring, after she and Sharon sold the cheap house they’d rented together. Too many bad memories lingered in that place for either to go on living there. So they’d moved into the dorms, complete with hijinks and freshmen and that signature smell resting between ‘massive amounts of body odor, old pizza boxes and beer.

Alaska unlocked her place with a key she wore as a necklace like Zoey 101. It was only a little bigger than an average dorm room, but with its own bathroom and with one less bed. A green thrift store loveseat pressed against the wall opposite Alaska’s bed. Her mini fridge sat on the floor in the corner, on top of which sat her meter, strips and lances. Sharon headed straight for the station. Alaska groaned. “Can’t I change first?”

“Of course, it’ll take me a minute to set up anyway.” Sharon waved at her.

Relaxing, Alaska opened her dresser and grabbed an oversized U of A tee and a pair boy shorts. _Fuck_ , she realized, Sharon, her ex, _was right there_. 

Sensing her discomfort, Sharon said offhandedly “You can change, I won’t turn around.”

Alaska made quick work of yanking her dress down, revealing where the fabric and seams had pressed into her flesh and constrained her circulation. As she slipped into the clean boy shorts she watched Sharon’s back. How weird was this whole situation? She was embarrassed to be seen getting dressed by someone who had seen her naked no shortage of times? And that her ex was in her bedroom, with her, alone, after saving her from (basically) herself?

Sharon looked up at the ceiling. “You done?”

“Um.” Alaska whipped the T shirt over her head and shoved her arms through the holes. “Now.”

Sharon turned to Alaska, giving her pj’s a quick once-over. She pointed to the loveseat. “Sit.”

Alaska did so and extended her right hand to Sharon. She knew the drill. 

“Wait a second,” said Sharon, holding a lancet in one hand and the meter in the other.

“What?”

Sharon put down the lancet and meter and went into the bathroom. She returned soon after with a box of makeup wipes. 

“Thanks,” said Alaska. “I completely forgot I was even still wearing makeup.”

“Understandable,” said Sharon. “Hand.”

Alaska gave Sharon her hand, ignoring the feeling that _this was weird_ rising in her chest. She even stifled that feeling when Sharon rubbed and massaged her fingers, warming them up before the inevitable pinprick. When it did come, Alaska only flinched a little. Sharon was always better with the needles than she was.

Alaska scrubbed at her face with the makeup wipes while Sharon smeared blood on the test strip, then stuck the strip into the machine and waited for a reading. While the machine read her blood, Alaska felt a wave of tenderness overtake her. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” said Sharon robotically. 

“No,” said Alaska, reaching for Sharon’s wrist. Sharon caught her hand and looked into her eyes. Fuck, she missed Sharon. “I mean.” Alaska’s voice was practically a whisper. “Thank you. For everything.”

The meter buzzed. Sharon looked down and leaned back. “You’re still low. You wanna snack or shot?”

Alaska sighed. “Just shoot me.” 

Sharon knew that’s what she was going to pick. At the end of a long day and the beginning of a long night, Alaska almost never had an appetite. She headed for the glucagon kits, little red cases the size and shape of which reminded her of her glasses case (for when her eyes were too dry for contacts). Pulling the needle from the kit, Sharon injected the powder with the liquid from the vial, removed the needle and swirled the contents around, watching it shift from powder to waterlike. “You know,” she said, still preparing the liquid. “Just because we aren’t together anymore doesn’t mean we have to avoid each other. Things have cooled down now, you know?”

Alaska nodded slowly. The vibes she was getting off of Sharon said she missed her as much as she missed Sharon. “Yeah,” she said. “I feel like… like I miss the friend I had for five years, you know?”

Sharon nodded and finished prepping the shot. She held the needle up high. “So where do you want this sucker, arm, ass or thigh?”

Alaska laughed nervously. 

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, I’m not _actually_ gonna stick it in your asscheek.”

“Good,” said Alaska, grimacing. 

“Wait, did you think I would?” 

Alaska threw up her hands. “I don’t know, Shar. It’s late. You rise with the moon, you could do just about anything and I’d probably believe it.”

Sharon smirked. How easy was this, being with Alaska. Like breathing. “Thigh or arm.”

Alaska pulled her short sleeve up and under the fabric at her shoulder. Sharon squeezed the flesh of Alaska’s upper arm and frowned. “Not enough fat,” she said, getting up. “Also I need an alcohol swab.”

Alaska sighed. “Can’t you just do it in my arm anyway?”

“You know, the glucagon is supposed to be for emergencies,” Sharon pointed out on her way back. “You’re _supposed_ to eat.”

Alaska whined and fell back into the loveseat, but let Sharon have access to her thigh. A lesser person would have taken advantage of being able to feel up an ex's thigh. Sharon, however, remained highly professional, reminding Alaska that Sharon had been her caretaker before her girlfriend. There was the burn of the needle going into her skin, and the seconds after where Sharon pushed down the plunger. Then it was over, and Sharon was rubbing at the injection site, about halfway up Alaska’s exposed thigh. 

It didn’t feel weird at all.

Of course in the times the following hour when they checked Alaska’s numbers, they were wonky, but stabilized soon enough. Sharon tried to convince Alaska to sleep, but she was too busy telling her friend all that had happened that night. How she just made friends and had fun and it was fine. Until the whole fainting episode, of course.

“I’m proud of you,” said Sharon.

“Really? ‘Cause I kinda thought you’d be upset.”

“Upset?” Sharon raised an eyebrow. “Why would I be upset? Where'd you get that idea?”

Alaska shrugged. “I dunno, you just always were like ‘better safe than sorry’ so I stayed safe and never met anyone outside of you because I guess I didn’t have to.”

Sharon frowned. She didn’t know she’d come across that way, or had such an isolating effect on Alaska. The more they actually talked that night about why their relationship didn’t work, the more she understood. It really _was_ better this way. 

At 2 am, Alaska was a kind of sleep deprived that got all mushy and sweet, and it hurt Sharon to know that tomorrow when she fell asleep it wouldn’t be next to Alaska.

“You know besides the whole fainting thing,” said Alaska. She rested her head on Sharon’s shoulder as a late night BBC America fish documentary lulled them both to the sandman’s embrace. “I’ve really enjoyed tonight. Hanging out. And just because we’re not girlfriends anymore,” she yawned. “It doesn’t mean we can’t be regular friends, right?”

Sharon rubbed small circles into Alaska’s scalp and breathed in her familiar scent. She had never been able to describe how Alaska smelled, something like smoke but not cigarettes, and something like flowers but none that she could put a name to. Alaska just smelled like Alaska. Sharon rested her cheek on the crown of Alaska’s head. She was warm. “Yeah,” she said. “We can be friends.”

She felt Alaska smile and snuggle closer, getting comfortable. The very tired angel on Sharon’s shoulder telling her to set boundaries won over for once. Sharon shifted, lightly shoving Alaska off her. 

The blonde rubbed her eyes. “What is it?” she asked tiredly.

“You should really go to bed.” Sharon checked the time on her phone where it was plugged into the wall. “It’s 2:34 now so I’ll wake you up…” She took a good ten seconds to do the math in her head (hey, it was 2 am and Sharon wasn’t sober; also she’d always been bad at math). “Seven thirty? God, I’m tired.”

Alaska whined in the back of her throat, but she stood up from the loveseat. It was about two steps from the seat to her twin bed, but she still managed to trudge her way to bed. She yawned. “You gonna head back to yours? Or you can crash here.” 

Sharon was in the process of rolling up her leather jacket into a pillow. “That’s the plan.”

Alaska tried to hide her smile at knowing Sharon would be here when she woke up. 

There was silence for a while as both girls got comfortable in their sleeping positions. Alaska lay on her back, one hand below her pillow and the other squeezed between her thighs for warmth. She stared at the popcorn ceiling. Eyes closed, Sharon buried half her face in her leather and curled herself into a fetal position, her arms folded over her chest. Defensive, even in relaxation.

After a few moments, Alaska raised her voice above the silence. “Hey, Shar?”

Sharon hummed, too tired to open her mouth.

“I missed you.”

Sharon slowly dragged her lids open and raised her head enough to meet Alaska’s eyes. “I missed you too.”

Sharon didn’t lie back down again, as Alaska’s eyes had more to say. “I was thinking… I like my life better when you’re in it.”

Sharon’s eyes glistened. A warmth spread through her chest. She wanted to jump over to Alaska’s bed and kiss her and hold her and feel their limbs intertwine and say _I still love you. I always have and I always will._

But she didn’t. Instead she flipped over so her back was to Alaska. She heard Alaska’s sigh of disappointment. Sharon was too tired, far too tired to have this conversation. “We’ll talk in the morning. For now, try and get some sleep.”

Alaska let out a placated “okay” before letting herself drift into half-sleep. 

She could have been dreaming, but Alaska was almost certain she’d heard Sharon’s voice say “Night love.”

Just like she had years and years before.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to AQ on August 6, 2017.


End file.
